Just This Once
by Mhai-kun
Summary: Ootori Kyoya has always been a heartless businessman. But his scheduled life is being delicately thrown out of balance by the unlikeliest person imaginable: Fujioka Haruhi. Can he suppress his feelings this time around, or will he finally give in?
1. Chapter 1: Rain and Call in September

Ootori Kyoya was a no-nonsense man. He took pleasure in manipulating people for his own personal gain, regardless if they were friend or foe. He was deemed terrifyingly intelligent and ruthless, which were two of his strong points; one must possess both of those qualities to make it big in the corporate world. It was simply a predetermined fact. He was capable of being "compassionate" and "gentle", certainly, but that was only a façade; Ootori Kyoya wouldn't be caught dead showing kindly emotion.

And as far as cliché beginnings go, this is one of the most common. Nevertheless, this is how his story first plays out.

One rainy September day, as a bespectacled, twenty-three-year-old man sat in his black leather swivel chair contemplating his next business meeting with the CEO of a prestigious company, some changes were taking place — though, for once, he wasn't aware of it.

He was tapping his finger against the rim of his teacup (he was having Earl Grey), staring intently at the file he had been sent earlier that day by his secretary, Souji, a tiny thing with the lilting accent born of a provincial Japanese prefecture. He had been staring at the same page for the last quarter of an hour, frowning delicately. The file contained little to no personal information about the CEO, which greatly disappointed the young man; he valued precision and exactness, both of which the file so conspicuously lacked. He felt that he could have filled at least half a dozen pages more if he'd made it himself; he prided himself on his means of getting — or stealing, if that is the term you prefer — information about those unfortunate people whom he wished to investigate. It had been a… talent of his since he had first learned to walk and talk, a talent which his father wisely kept at his disposal.

However successful the young man had become, he had not, as he'd always dreamed, inherited one of his father's companies, nor did he become his father's official heir. Though his father did, a few careful days of thought after the young man's high school graduation, realize that his third son had enough potential to handle the entire family conglomerate single-handedly, the young man declined the offer as soon as it was made, much to the shock and disbelief of everyone who knew him. The young man was power-hungry, to a measurable extent, and his life's goal, which was very familiar to his small circle of close friends, was to become the family heir. Those friends of his had never imagined that he would do such an atrocious thing as turn away from that which he had always yearned for. What was more, upon his refusal he stated, quite plainly, that he would make a name for himself on his own — and he did. He built his own expansive business empire without any help whatsoever from his peers or relatives, which was no mean feat, even for him. Through his triumph, he had shown his father that he was capable of doing everything his older brothers could, and more.

But with all his power and fame and glory, how the hell could one of his well-trained, hand-picked staff have produced such an unsatisfactory piece of shit?

Massaging his temple, he pushed a silver button on his desk. Immediately, the voice of tiny Souji greeted him through a small speaker beside his digital desk clock.

"Good afternoon, Ootori-san. Was there something you needed?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there _is_," Ootori Kyoya replied coolly, picking up one of his fountain pens and twirling it absently between his long white fingers. "The 'file' you gave me does not contain sufficient information. Please contact whoever wrote this poor excuse for a report and ask him to see me as soon as he can. Oh, and do remind him that he shouldn't be surprised if I send him packing first thing tomorrow."

Not very often was Kyoya so lenient.

Without waiting for Souji to answer, he took his finger off the button, stood up, and turned to the enormous window behind him. He braced his arm against it and laid his forehead on the glass — it felt very cool against his pale skin — as he stared off into the depths of the rain-drenched city. Taxis and cars and bicycles sped along the roads fifty-six floors below him as umbrella-wielding people insignificant to Kyoya's existence went about their daily lives, wasting their time inside shopping malls and movie theaters and video game arcades. Such mundane things were beneath him.

Most people said he had wasted his precious youth being constantly buried in work and numbers and figures, which was true. In high school he had managed his club's finances, constantly looking out for the rise and fall of the lines in the graphs, and he had been the head of his company (he was still in the medical business) since he was eighteen, a startlingly early age to be burdened with such a heavy responsibility. Nevertheless, he had showed no signs of stress or age since then; he was still as youthful and handsome as ever — in fact, he knew that precisely fifty-four percent of the single women in his employment were deeply infatuated with him, which to him was a great asset. Call him a devil if you will, but that was simply how Ootori Kyoya was.

For the first time in a long time, Kyoya thought about his old "friends", those unruly misfits who had called themselves "hosts". They were doing pretty well themselves: Suou Tamaki, the host club's former King, was now an actor and part-time model, much to the amusement of Suou Senior, who was the chairman of Ouran High School — Tamaki's disagreeable paternal grandmother, the only person standing between him and a bright future, had passed away shortly after their graduation, and yet Tamaki still chose a different path for himself, believing (quite conceitedly, in Kyoya's opinion) that he was far too beautiful and charismatic to be locked up in an office; Hitachiin Kaoru and Hikaru had decided to join their mother in the fashion business, and had become two of the most prominent designers in Japan — at the moment they were in London, showcasing their new autumn collection; Morinozuka Takashi managed his own kendo dojo, and had become increasingly more skilled and powerful over time, having been reluctantly parted from his dear and new-to-the-wondrous-world-of-independency cousin, Haninozuka Mitsukuni, who was the sole owner of a chain of sweets shops (the aptly named "Usa-chan Sugar" had become popular worldwide) and who had gotten his growth spurt at age nineteen — now he was nearly as tall as Mori-senpai; and lastly, a certain Fujioka Haruhi, who had been the only girl in the Ouran High School Host Club and who had blossomed into a wonderful lawyer after studying overseas for several years, had graced almost every headline in the previous Sunday newspapers — she had won a case, hands down, against the fiercest prosecutor in the area.

As Kyoya had predicted, all of them turned out just fine — especially their scrawny little lapdog.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Kyoya! Fancy visiting me at the modeling studio this week? There's going to be a small commoner audience, and I'm going to be giving out autographs! Doesn't that sound simply <em>fantastic<em>?"

"As much as I love being a part of your outrageous, hardheaded schemes, Tamaki, I'm going to be extremely busy. My schedule is — not regrettably — full, with absolutely no openings whatsoever for the next two months."

Kyoya was on the way home when his raucous, self-proclaimed "best friend" called him on his mobile phone. He had been avoiding the Tamaki's calls ever since they separated at graduation, since he knew they would only consist of more incessant whining and wailing and would doubtlessly result in him being shipped unwillingly off to some remote tropical island. But he had to give in at some point.

Tamaki made a spluttering sound, apparently disappointed at Kyoya's lack of interest. "You're no fun! And I thought you were serious when we were kids…" Tamaki sighed. "Look, Mommy," (a vein began to pulse lightly in Kyoya's temple as Tamaki's old nickname for him was brought to life again) "you really should take a break every now and then; it's good for your complexion." He was trying to be funny, but Kyoya could sense that he there was worry underneath his bouncy exterior.

"I couldn't care less about my complexion. And besides, aren't you supposed to be on the set of that new film of yours?"

"Oh, I am," Tamaki said, now cheerful. "And it's absolutely _gorgeous_, Kyoya, promise you'll at least come to the premiere with me! It's a week from now!"

"As I've already told you, you insufferable halfwit, I'm too busy to engage myself in such lighthearted frivolities."

Tamaki was quiet for a moment before he sighed again, accepting defeat. "Well, if there's no way I can convince you… I guess I'll see you some other time. Goodbye, Kyoya."

Without saying goodbye in return, Kyoya snapped his phone shut and gazed moodily out the tinted window, his breath fogging up the glass.

_A movie premiere, huh?_

* * *

><p>All right, everyone~! Allow me to introduce myself - I am newbie Mhai-kun (but I'm female), pleased to meet you! So... okay, here goes. This is the first fanfiction I have ever published here! Yes, what an achievement. OTL<br>Thanks very much for finishing this chapter, it means a lot to me~ And I'd really appreciate it if you sent me messages or suggestions. :3  
>I just keep hoping you guys will like it. I worked really hard on this fanfic, and since I'm not that experienced with this sort of thing...<br>Jeez, talk about pressure. = =;  
>Anyway, the second chapter will be here really soon, so please support me! u<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Accidental Rendezvous

A red carpet had been rolled out to greet them, which Kyoya thought was both gaudy and overstated. Nevertheless, he walked the length of the carpet in a dignified manner, his footsteps muffled, behind Tamaki, who was waving energetically at the screaming female fans on either side of them, hindered only by velvet ropes and burly bouncers.

Looking over his shoulder, Tamaki winked. "Don't worry, Mommy, you get used to this sort of thing." And with that, he blew one lucky girl a kiss, who gasped before collapsing into the arms of the envious others behind her.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Kyoya said, smiling sweetly. "I just want to get out of here as soon as possible. I could be doing more productive things right now, such as working."

"If you continue being such a workaholic, you're going to get frown lines before your time!" Tamaki said with a pout, which transformed almost immediately into a dazzling smile as another crazed fan turned her sparkly camera towards him and begged for a photograph. "And besides, _you're _the one who said you'd like to come! I didn't force you to do anything after that call, remember? That only means you love me more than you let on, isn't that right, Mommy dearest?"

Kyoya opted not to answer as he watched his "friend" showing himself off like a well-dressed monkey at the zoo. When they had finally reached the end of the seemingly-endless red carpet, Kyoya breathed a sigh of relief; the girls' screams were too much for him, and he much preferred classical music to excited shrieks anyway. Just outside the double doors of the theater, Tamaki's co-stars had gathered and were chattering amongst themselves, shrouded in elegance, occasionally giggling or laughing in that fashion which seems to normal people so artificial. But when Tamaki joined them, it was evident that he had not been affected by their plastic ways and still remained the naturally happy idiot he had always been.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Ootori Kyoya!" Tamaki announced.

There was a murmur of interest and recognition among the actors and actresses as they assessed Kyoya's trim, tuxedoed frame.

"You mean the head of one of the Ootori Medical Groups?" one of the women inquired, apparently impressed as she gave him a once-over.

"The larger of the two," Tamaki supplied, looking as though he were close to tousling Kyoya's hair like a proud mother.

"You do overestimate my capabilities, Tamaki," Kyoya said, bowing humbly, "but I am grateful for your invitation."

Needless to say, he was lying through his teeth, and without even batting an eyelid.

The doors to the theater were thrown open just then, leaving no more room for small talk, and they filed inside, Tamaki practically quivering with excitement.

When they had taken their seats, Kyoya could have sworn that Tamaki was about to burst with happiness and splatter them all with whatever it was that constituted bubbly humans like him; he kept hopping up and down.

And after every seat in the theater was occupied, the lights went out, one by one, and an eerie hush fell over them. The screen flickered to life, the music started, and the title (_"Wherefore art thou, Paris?"_) flashed onto the screen against some brilliant footage of Southern France.

"IT'S FINALLY STARTING!" Tamaki yelled.

Several dozen people turned in his direction with disapproving frowns on their faces, ready to shush whoever-it-was and maybe even swear, but upon seeing that the obnoxious person they were about to scold was actually that lovable teddy-bear of a Suou, that famous actor-slash-model, their expressions became relaxed and they turned contentedly back to the screen.

When you were beautiful, you got away with more things. It's just the way things were.

After random scenes consisting (in no particular order) of children playing in the park, couples kissing, dainty ice cream shops, and vendors selling flowers, the camera was miraculously transported to a finely-crafted stone bench located in a bustling plaza, upon which two people, a beautiful blonde man and a petite auburn-haired woman, were sitting peacefully.

"Oh, Madeline, isn't this scenery breathtaking?" the Tamaki on the screen said as his crystal-blue eyes swept the place, the wind blowing luxuriously through his golden hair.

"_Oui_, _Monsieur Pierre,_" said the woman named Madeline, looking convincingly embarrassed in a disappointed sort of way, "but I _do _hope that wasn't why you decided to pay me a visit…."

Realizing his mistake, Tamaki shook his head, dismayed at his behavior. "Nay; next to you, my darling, who is eternally in bloom, the scenery is but a small bud. How very rude of me — I'd forgotten to state my purpose."

"Which is?" There were stars in Madeline's eyes, eagerly anticipating, along with the audience, whatever move Tamaki would make next.

"Which is that I want to tour the whole of France with you, _ma cherie_, and only you."

And for most of the movie (which contained subtitles in different languages for the benefit of the foreigners who had heard of the film and had been drawn to Japan to see it) that was what Tamaki (who was named "Pierre") and Madeline (whose real name Kyoya knew was Hirasawa Yukino, the very same actress who had recognized him as the head of the larger Ootori Medical Group a while back) did, all the while exchanging ridiculously romantic and overused pick-up lines. But at some point, around thirty-nine minutes in, Madeline (Hirasawa) was kidnapped by the Russian mafia (headed by a muscular middle-aged man with a serpent tattoo encircling his neck) and Tamaki (Pierre) rushed off to save her James Bond style.

"I didn't have a stunt man," Tamaki whispered confidentially into Kyoya's ear, swelling with pride. "I did all of the action scenes myself; I got Mori-senpai to teach me!" He looked like he was waiting for Kyoya to pat his head.

But Kyoya wasn't much interested in the film itself. Truthfully, he felt that staying alternatively in only two places (his office and his house) over prolonged periods of time was unhealthy, which wasn't exactly the image he wanted others, particularly his business's patrons, to see when they looked at him. So let the record show that that was the only reason why he accepted Tamaki's invitation. Besides that, he thought he could use some entertainment; Tamaki's ridiculous antics had always been a source of quiet amusement for him.

"I knew this was the type of film Tamaki-senpai was likely to make," muttered an exasperated voice on Kyoya's immediate left as Tamaki (Pierre) walked aimlessly through a sudden and depressing tempest, lamenting the tragic loss of his leading lady. "It's more like a soap opera than a movie…"

Blinking in surprise, Kyoya said blankly, "Haruhi?"

The somewhat diminished twenty-two-year-old girl sat next to him, and when she lifted her face to look at him, something about her captured Kyoya's attention in a way that no woman had ever managed to do before. He supposed it was only because he had not seen her for so long… but there was more to it than that. Haruhi's brown eyes were just as starry as Madeline's, but the innocence in hers looked authentic. Except for the tiny hint of translucent pink on her lips, Haruhi wore no make-up. Her dark hair had become as long as it was when she was in middle school, but she had changed it — it wasn't similar to the style she had worn in the blown-up ID photograph of hers that Tamaki was so openly smitten with; she had kept her host club bangs, and when her hair had been allowed to grow it seemed to decide that a feminine appearance would suit her better, so it flowed in soft waves just beneath her shoulders. She was wearing a very plain periwinkle-blue gown that just accentuated the fact that she was female, and she didn't have any jewelry on. All in all, her simplicity was stunning.

"Good evening, Kyoya-senpai," Haruhi said. "Or should I call you Ootori-san now?" She smiled crookedly. "I knew you were sitting there all along, but I was sort of afraid you might threaten me with that old debt again, so I kept my mouth shut."

Feeling slightly dazed, Kyoya laughed; Haruhi herself had not changed at all. "Nonsense; you paid that debt off two years ago."

Haruhi shrugged as though she herself were wondering how she had managed to achieve such a thing. "Yes, well, I've gotten a bit paranoid. See, you have this tendency to pin debts to my forehead whenever you get the chance."

"And since you were wondering," Kyoya said smilingly, pretending he hadn't heard, "you may call me whatever you'd like, as long as you refrain from adding '-chan' or '-kun' at the end of it."

"Kyoya-senpai it is."

With some hesitation, as though Kyoya were unsure whether or not being honest would be the right thing to do, he said, "You look good, Haruhi."

Haruhi smiled. "Didn't miss that little pause there, but thanks, I guess. And you might have noticed that my hair looks kind of funny. Well, different, anyway. _I_ have no idea what happened to it. It just got all… like _this _one day, and it was just too troublesome to do anything about it. Maybe it was Dad; he must have sneaked into my room when I was sleeping and made it weird."

Kyoya seriously doubted that Ranka-san could have done that without waking Haruhi up, but he allowed Haruhi to talk about her life; he was the only "alumni" of the host club who didn't contact her on a regular basis, so he found her activities just as intriguing as he had when he was an adolescent.

"As for this dress, I got it from him as a gift for my last birthday; I think he bought it at a thrift shop or something. I don't really own anything else that seemed appropriate for the occasion, so… Right. Sorry, I'm rambling. You look good, too, senpai."

Waving his hand dismissively (and without thanking her for the compliment), Kyoya asked, "And might I ask what you are doing _here_, of all places?"

"Hark who's talking. Who'd've thought you enjoyed things like this? I figured you'd be at the office again — it's a weekday. Or did you forget to check your calendar?"

"No, I'm perfectly aware what day it is, thank you very much. And I'd already told our beloved King that I would rather be preoccupied with more important matters," Kyoya said with slight irritation, "but he would have none of it. Now answer my question, please."

"As disconcerting as it is to hear you saying please to someone like me, I might as well. Tamaki-senpai just marched into my office yesterday and practically screamed at me to come to this premiere; I fell out of my chair. I'd actually read about his new movie before, in a magazine I unearthed at my dad's, but it looked too… _Tamaki-senpai_-ish. I'd had enough of him in high school to last me a lifetime." She rolled her eyes.

"I understand only too well. Though I'm surprised he chose to sit next to _me_ instead of you. After all these years, I would have thought he'd be dying to marry you. Quite uncharacteristic of him, don't you think?"

Haruhi stared, and she seemed to see right through him. "Kyoya-senpai, I never realized you could be so dense."

Dense? The words "dense" and "Kyoya" had never before been used in the same sentence. Could it be true? Among many other things, Kyoya was confident that he was quite good at reading people, especially the squealing dunderhead next to him. What was it he had missed?

Sparing Tamaki a brief sidelong glance (he was sobbing; apparently his movie counterpart had been _that _close to saving Madeline when she had been snatched away once more), Kyoya raised an eyebrow and said, "How so?"

"He's had plenty of opportunities to see me since we graduated (he visits me twice a week, actually), but he's more worried about you," Haruhi said. One of the great things about Haruhi, though Kyoya kept it private, was that she was always straight to the point. "You've been working nonstop, the twins told me. I've no idea how they found out, but they say you hardly go anywhere else besides the office. You mean a lot to Tamaki-senpai. I think you should go easy on him."

Kyoya made a mental note to check the footage from the surveillance cameras in his building for two identical, suspicious-looking characters. If he did happen to find them, then he'd be sure to have a word with his security personnel.

"Well," he mused at last, still surprised that Haruhi had gathered so much out of so little, "I'm not as 'dense' as you might have thought; I _did_ know he was worried, but, I'll admit, not to that extent. I suppose an apology is in order… Do you think a large box of commoner candies will do?"

Haruhi merely smiled.

When the movie was over (Tamaki had rescued Madeline, of course, without a hair out of place, and the whole thing ended with a seven-second long kiss accompanied by overly-dramatic orchestral music), Haruhi stood up, thanked Kyoya and Tamaki for the fun evening, and departed, the billowing folds of her blue skirt melting away into the multitude of chiffon and silk.

"Our daughter sure has changed, hasn't she, Mommy?" Tamaki said, looking wistfully melancholic.

"I can't deny that," Kyoya agreed, adjusting his glasses and gazing after the girl he had once known as the host club's debt-ridden dog.

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Ootori-san."<p>

"Hnh."

It was nine o'clock, a cloudless Saturday morning, but Kyoya still felt that that was too early; it had taken five obnoxiously loud alarms to get him out of bed. He had emptied three cups of coffee (_real _coffee, not the appalling commoner kind that Tamaki had loved to force down his throat in high school) before he was awake enough to leave his manor.

As the door to his office slid open, Kyoya shuffled his way to his desk at the other end of the room. The sun was already high in the sky and far too bright for his eyes, which were still adjusting to the unappealing shock of consciousness, so Kyoya pushed one of the many buttons on his desk. Plain white drapes descended from the ceiling until they completely obscured Kyoya's ten-foot-high, all-glass windows, protecting him and his morning-sensitivity from the harshness of the sun.

Another mug of strong black coffee had been graciously prepared for Kyoya by Souji and sat, still steaming, on a cookie-shaped novelty coaster Tamaki had given him one Christmas. Kyoya took a sip and grimaced; too much sugar. How many times did he have to tell her? One teaspoon would do. Nevertheless, he finished it all off to spare the poor woman's feelings.

Focusing more attentively on his desk and expecting to see mounds of paperwork, Kyoya saw that there was actually not much to do. There were a couple of documents regarding the developments of one of the under-construction Ootori hospitals in Hokkaido, and another containing the resignation of the same person who had sent him the CEO report a few days previously. Besides those three pieces of paper there was nothing else; perhaps Souji, like Tamaki (or influenced by him), thought that he needed a day off, too. It would take no longer than a quarter of an hour to sort through them all.

Slumping against the back of his chair, Kyoya stared at the ceiling, his mind blank.

_Now what am I supposed to do?_

Since his initiation to the reality of the white-collars, Kyoya had never had a completely idle moment, one completely his own. When he wasn't at home, and sometimes even when he _was _at home, he was always either poring over many-paged reports or typing away on his laptop. He had never been placed in a situation wherein he was required to do absolutely nothing. To be frank, he was at a loss.

He thought that if he gave Tamaki a call for the heck of it the moron would jump for joy like a puppy about to go for a walk, and Kyoya certainly didn't want to give Tamaki the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting bored with his strict lifestyle.

So he did something that would have been considered outrageously scandalous in his high school days, something that was wholly uncharacteristic of the host club's old "Shadow King": as soon as he'd finished working, he went to his office closet for a change of clothes and drove off to pay Fujioka Haruhi a surprise visit.

* * *

><p>Kyoya, now dressed more casually in a long-sleeved white shirt and black slacks, stood outside an enormous apartment complex. According to Kyoya's intel, after coming home to Japan from her overseas education, Haruhi chose to move here.<p>

_Well_, Kyoya thought, _at least it's better than the peasant's hovel where she used to live._

He didn't dare say that opinion out loud, for he did not want to offend Ranka-san, whom, no matter how inconsequential his background, Kyoya somehow respected.

He found Haruhi's apartment without difficulty, but he attracted a lot of stares along the way (one teenage girl had nearly forgotten on which floor to get off when they were in the elevator together). There it was, the number 402 in shining brass. Kyoya knocked.

There was the muted sound of somebody dropping something beyond the door, and then the sound of hushed grumbling. A few seconds the later, a pretty, gently frowning woman with her hair swept into wavy twin-tails opened the door just wide enough for Kyoya to see that there were newly-washed clothes all over the floor, along with a hamper that was rolling around in slow circles on its side.

"What are you doing here?" Haruhi said. "And more importantly, how did you find me?"

"You never learn," Kyoya chuckled. "You know, it's awfully hot out here. Mind letting me in?"

Haruhi looked at him as though she were seeing him plainly for the first time, then she sighed. "Fine, come right in."

Kyoya smiled. "Why, thank you very much."

Leaving his shoes at the entrance, Kyoya entered Haruhi's "home" in his socks, looking around. It was fairly spacious for a commoner dwelling, much larger than the apartment she had shared with Ranka, and was warmly furnished. There were no dull, monochromatic patterns or colors to be found, just pastel, and the overall ambiance of the place was welcoming and cozy.

Turning mockingly towards his host, Kyoya said, crossing his arms, "I never thought you had a soft spot for adorable things."

"Oh, ha-ha," Haruhi said dully as she picked up her clothes and tossed them back into the hamper, which she set upright before tilting her head curiously. She looked back up at Kyoya. "You mean you think my apartment is adorable?"

Momentarily speechless, Kyoya adjusted his glasses to fill the unmoving silence. "No, I merely think you have a very quaint living space. In fact, it's not half bad."

"Coming from you, that's a tremendous compliment."

Kyoya sat himself down on the floor next to Haruhi's kotatsu (she was obviously still partial to the Japanese-style rooms she had grown up in, since there were tatami mats everywhere) and waited as she went to the kitchen to prepare some tea.

"I hope you don't mind teabags."

"Oh, no, it's perfectly fine."

"In what universe would you _not _mind teabags?"

"I'm feeling particularly unsophisticated right now."

Humming tunelessly, Kyoya took his mobile phone out of his pocket and discreetly took a photograph of Haruhi's apartment, suppressing a smirk; he was certain it would come in handy when he was bribing Tamaki out of doing something stupid sometime in the future.

"What are you doing?" Haruhi asked as she came back in, holding a tray laden with mugs and snacks.

"Nothing, nothing… Oh, and by the way, Haruhi… About the last time we saw each other, I'm sorry for not congratulating you on that case you won."

Haruhi grinned. "Don't worry about it. Here, have some sembei."

"Don't mind if I do."

The room was filled with the sound of them munching on their sembei. Normally, or back in the day, anyway, Haruhi would have commented on Kyoya's lack of scorn toward her "commoner snacks", but they weren't speaking to one another — indeed, they were staring in opposite directions. Still, they were communicating somehow, and it was evident in Kyoya's posture: he was slouching, but quite elegantly so, and his shoulders weren't tense; he was completely at ease — which was something Haruhi noticed.

"Kyoya-senpai?"

Kyoya swallowed his sembei and said, while drinking his tea, "Hmm?"

"You don't look like you've got some important, groundbreaking business to talk to me about, so what's up?"

"Well," Kyoya said, replacing his mug on the table, "'house' is a horrendous overstatement, but that's beside the point. I am here because I had nothing to constructive to do at the office, and my own home was getting tiresome. In other words, I am bored."

Haruhi glared at him with a look of incredulity that was so familiar to Kyoya that he almost (very nearly almost) laughed.

"Oh, wow," she muttered, taking a huge chunk out of her sembei furiously with her teeth, "I'm so _flattered_ to have the _famous_ Ootori Kyoya in my '_horrendous overstatement_'. I sure do hope I'll be able to squash his boredom."

Kyoya chuckled. "I take it you never missed me?"

"'Miss you'?" Haruhi scoffed as she continued to chew. "I've never been happier to be rid of anybody in my entire life! That debt was always at the back of my mind, ready to jump back to the front again whenever I screwed up, no matter how determined I was to pay you guys back. So when we stepped out of Ouran and entered the real world, _that _was my big break. I could stop pretending to be a guy and just _live_, you know what I mean?"

Kyoya's constantly-calculating brain hardly registered anything that came after "entire life". When Haruhi had said that she had never been happier to be rid of anyone, he felt a fleeting twinge of annoyance that, once it had passed, he could not comprehend. Why wasn't she happy to be rid of Tamaki or the twins? Surely _they_ were more badly-behaved that he was.

Realizing that Haruhi was waiting for an answer, Kyoya cleared his throat. "Oh, yes…. Yes, I understand. Life hasn't been a walk in the park for me, either."

"It shouldn't," Haruhi said wisely. "But that only means you've worked really hard to get where you are now, right?"

Haruhi was looking at Kyoya shrewdly over the rim of her mug. There were her starry eyes again.

"Is that so?"

They became quiet, and the only sound that remained was the renewed crunch of the sembei.

* * *

><p>Kyoya had imposed upon Haruhi's generosity much longer than was necessary, so she had grudgingly prepared lunch for him (tonkatsu with rice). And when he finally got home ("home" meant a large manor on a fairly expansive estate just off the sparsely populated residential area for the rich and snobbish), he found that he had no less than seven messages on his answering machine, which, when played consecutively from the earliest until the latest, were as follows:<p>

_Beeeeep._

At 9:42 AM, Suou Tamaki called. "KYOYAAAAAAAA! _I messed up during a photoshoooooot!_ This is going to be the end for me, I just know iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! Call me back as soon as you can, I don't think I can take the _shame _all by myseeeelf!"

_Beeeeep._

At 9:58 AM, Suou Tamaki called. "Kyoya, Kyoya, you'll _never _guess; that mess-up actually turned out _better _that any of us expected! It looks like it was staged, that's how brilliant I was! So don't mind my last message, you don't have to call me back, I'll be fine! Have fun at work, Mommy, Daddy loves you!"

_Beeeeep._

At 10:11 AM, Suou Tamaki called. "Sorry if I'm gushing, Kyoya, but this is one of the best days _ever_! Not only did that failure of a shot turn out so well, but I also managed to find this cute little commoner convenience store next to the studio! It seems that it's just been newly established, so all the products aren't on the shelves yet, but I guarantee that I'll be the first person to buy something from that place! I'll make sure to send some snacks over to your house, 'kay? See ya later, Kyoya!"

_Beeeeep._

At 10:17 AM, Suou Tamaki called. "— your contacts? No, Miu-hime, I'm afraid I haven't seen them. But never fear! The brave and bold Suou Tamaki is here to — whooooaaaaaa! Pardon m — WHOA! _OOMPH_ —"

_Beeeeep._

At 10:19 AM, Suou Tamaki called. "…Kyoya. The most embarrassing thing just happened… I was looking for someone's contacts on the floor, and I… I slipped on a red bean and crashed into a cardboard palm tree… I'm never going to live this one down… I feel like dying… Make sure you show up at my funeral…."

_Beeeeep._

At 11:00 AM, Hitachiin Hikaru and Kaoru (who were speaking at the same time) called. "Hey, Kyoya-senpai, head's up: Tono's been acting really weird, he keeps sending us detailed e-mails about every minute of his day. We suggest blocking his number, at least until we tell you he's calmed down."

_Beeeeep._

At 1:12 PM, Fujioka Haruhi called. "Uhmm… Senpai? Yeah, it's me, Haruhi… You left your wallet here at my place. So… uhh… yeah. Should I go over to your place, or do you want to come here instead? …Oh, right, this is an answering machine already, so you can't talk to me…. Well, uhh, give me a call, okay? This is weird…."

_Beeeeep._

Kyoya stared at his telephone in amazement; how could he have possibly survived a trip home without his wallet?

* * *

><p>So here's the second chapter~ I couldn't think of a very good name for it, so I'm sorry if the title sounds a bit stupid... OTL<p>

And so it begins! The unexpected romance between the rich man and the pauper has finally started! What will Kyoya do now that he is faced with the loss of his beloved wallet? (This sounds more dramatic than I intended...)

Please continue reading! m(u)m


	3. Chapter 3: Kindness without Merits

Some minutes later, Haruhi got out of her taxi and turned up at his doorstep, looking as though she very much wanted to just shove the wallet in his face and run straight back to her apartment.

"How much money do you even _have _in there?"

"I think telling you would only make you feel more uncomfortable," Kyoya said mildly, taking the leather money-keeper from her hand and slipping it into his back pocket. "However, I appreciate you going through all this trouble, Haruhi."

"I just did it because God only knows what you'd do to me if I didn't," Haruhi muttered. Was this wisp of a thing really a lawyer? She seemed more like a deboned tuna fish.

"You're right about that. Then let me make it up to you — why don't you spend the night here?"

Haruhi looked skeptical. "Spend the _night_? _Here_? And how would that make anything up to me?"

She seemed more intimidated by the estate's sheer size than anything else. And what was more, there were innumerable things in the manor that she could break, things that she wouldn't be able to pay for no matter how many first-rate, headline-worthy cases she won.

"You would get high-class meals and accommodations during you stay, for one thing, so why not?" Kyoya said it so simply, as though it were only natural for him to accept a commoner into his home.

"And why the hell would I do something so _insane_?"

Kyoya shrugged and looked at the steadily darkening sky. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because a ferocious typhoon is about to hit Japan precisely thirteen minutes from now, effectively disabling you from stepping beyond my property."

Haruhi gulped and tried, unsuccessfully, to mask her growing discomfort. "Is… is there going to be… t-thunder…?"

"As far as I know."

Glaring at him mutinously, Haruhi said, her voice hard and somehow pleading at the same time, "By any chance, Kyoya-senpai, did you plan this?"

"Me? Plan something so vulgar? Don't be absurd." But Kyoya's expression plainly said otherwise.

* * *

><p>"So… uhh… excuse me, but when's the thunder supposed to start again?"<p>

"Not for another couple of hours, at least. You should be in bed by then."

It was around five-thirty in the afternoon. Kyoya and Haruhi were in Kyoya's private study, he in his desk chair organizing some files on his laptop and she on the soft carpet reading a law book. Outside the window, the raindrops were lashing at the manor like miniature whips; the tempest had never faltered in the four hours since Haruhi had arrived.

"Look, senpai," Haruhi said, "I really appreciate the hospitality and everything, but somehow I've got this feeling that you're going to add all this to a new debt. Remember what I said about the forehead-pinning."

_Tac tac tac._

"Say what you will, but I know what my motives are."

Haruhi glanced up from her book and raised an eyebrow. "So you _do _admit that you have motives!"

"Don't put words in my mouth," Kyoya said calmly, typing away. _Tac tac tac. _"I never said anything of the sort."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Dodge questions so well."

_Tac tac tac. _Kyoya looked up, too. "Years of practice."

Then he suddenly seemed too distracted to continue working, so he reluctantly made backup copies of his files and snapped his laptop shut. He cupped his chin with his hand as though lost in thought, but his eyes were fixed on the lady on his carpet, lying unsophisticatedly on her belly as she pored over the thick volume before her with an expression of earnest concentration.

"Haruhi?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like being a lawyer?"

Haruhi nodded absentmindedly. "Of course I do."

"I see."

"And what about you, senpai? How does the seat of ultimate power suit you?"

Kyoya leaned back in his chair and chuckled. "I'd say 'the seat of ultimate power' suits me just fine; it's quite comfortable, actually. I can get everything I want with the push of a button."

Haruhi flipped a page. "Must be nice."

"Hmm."

Kyoya sat there for who knows how long, thinking about things a man his age needn't have worried about, and before he knew it Haruhi had finished reading the law book from cover to cover.

She pushed herself up. "Senpai? Are you asleep?"

Kyoya shook his head. "I never could understand that question. I mean, if the person at whom the query was being directed really _were _asleep, then how could you expect them to answer?"

"Well, if they don't answer, then they're asleep. See?"

"I suppose," Kyoya acceded, "but the logic in that explanation is too hazy for my taste."

"That's because you're a rich snob."

Haruhi walked over to Kyoya's towering bookshelves to return her book and take another one.

"If I accidentally rip or fold one of the pages, would you charge me?" she asked, thoughtfully curious.

"What do you think?"

"I think you haven't changed at all."

She sat back down on the carpet but didn't open the book. She was looking at Kyoya with an expression that indicated she was formulating some sort of hypothesis regarding his behavior. He noticed, and his hands stopped typing just long enough for him to say, "What is that look supposed to mean?"

Haruhi's brow furrowed, but she never took her eyes off his. "You're being really weird, Kyoya-senpai. First you came over to my house out of the blue, then you ask me to stay overnight at _yours_. I mean, I don't get it. What heroic, money-related act have I done to earn such treatment? Are you drunk? Are you high? Has someone bribed you to be nice to me?"

Kyoya blinked and thought it over. He knew how to express and explain himself in ways normal people could clearly comprehend (albeit in a daunting way), but this time around he didn't know what he was supposed to do; it was as though it had all slipped out of his mind. Feeling bemused, he said slowly, "It has nothing to do with bribes, and _heavens_ no, I wouldn't touch illegal drugs if my existence depended on it. And am I really so crass as to get drunk? No, I'm… At the moment I'm not really sure what brought this on either. This is a first for me, then."

Haruhi was about to open her mouth to reply, but Kyoya cut her off, unwilling to be caught off guard a second time; it was embarrassing enough to have it happen once. "Listen, Haruhi, we should probably get some dinner. I asked my chef to prepare something special. You're hungry, aren't you?"

Haruhi blushed furiously. "Am… am _not_."

Kyoya adjusted his glasses to hide the fact that he was smirking. He was only improvising, but it seemed he was right on the mark. "You don't fool me; I can hear your stomach from over here."

Wordlessly, Haruhi got up, returned the book she'd forgotten to read to its proper place with unnecessary force, and marched out the door. After a few seconds, her brilliantly red face peeked back in.

"Well, are you coming or not?"

* * *

><p>They were seated across from each other at the very end of Kyoya's unnaturally long dining table, and there were more dishes present than usual because "Ootori-sama" had a "special guest". There was foreign food (roast turkey, shepherd's pie, and chocolate gateau, to name a few) and Japanese food (like Haruhi's favorite otoro, as well as normal, peasant dishes like nikkorogashi and omusubi), all of which Haruhi sampled — in small, decent quantities, of course.<p>

"Thish tashtes _really_ delicious, Kyoya-shenpai!" Haruhi exclaimed, her mouth full of Chinese Yangchow rice and roast duck. Normally she was more reserved about her love for fancy food, but today, what with the absence of the other usually-present host club members, she seemed to have stopped holding back.

"Table manners, Haruhi," Kyoya said serenely as he sliced himself some roast beef and slipped a small strip onto his tongue — a young master, through and through.

Haruhi turned pink, chewed carefully, and swallowed.

"Good girl."

Then, after a few more minutes of dignified silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks against the Ootori manor's unthinkably-expensive plates, the room went pitch-black.

Kyoya couldn't see an inch in front of his face, but he could hear Haruhi choking on her spaghetti Bolognese.

"K-Kyoya-senpai?" she spluttered.

"We appear to be experiencing a blackout," Kyoya said (as if he'd needed to say it out loud), keeping quite calm as he searched his pocket for his mobile. "Don't worry; I'll call for the generator to be turned on at once."

"B-But blackouts usually mean —"

"Approaching thunder, yes."

Haruhi let out an involuntary moan; Kyoya could hear her shifting around nervously in her seat.

He flipped his phone open and dialed the number of the telephone in the head butler's quarters.

"It's me. Would you mind turning on the generator for us? I'm afraid my guest here is brontophobic, and the dark isn't exactly helping…. We're in the dining hall, the second one…. What? …I see. Then it can't be helped. Send for some candles at once."

When Kyoya put the phone back into his pocket, he felt Haruhi tugging at his shirtsleeve; she must have come around the table in her fright.

"Your c-conversation didn't sound very encouraging…"

Out of habit, Kyoya adjusted his glasses. "Apparently the generator's being repaired at the moment, so we can't use it. We'll have to make do with candles for the rest of the evening."

Haruhi whimpered, which made Kyoya laugh; he could only imagine the sort of hilariously terrified expression on her face.

"What's so funny?" Kyoya felt Haruhi puffing up indignantly beside him.

"Relax. What do you think I'd do, let you bang off the walls in the dark while you try to look for a place to hide from the thunder?" he said, still chuckling. "No, you'll stay in my room."

"…please tell me you're kidding this time," Haruhi groaned.

"Oh, no, I'm being perfectly serious," he answered matter-of-factly. "My bed is wide enough to accommodate two people. All you have to do is stay on the other side and not move during the course of the night."

"I… don't really think that's a good idea."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because your blood type's AB. To be blunt, senpai, you're a morning demon."

"How very kind of you to refer to the master of the house in such a way," Kyoya said smoothly. "However, I must admit I _am_ rather inclined to wake up later than the average person, and as you already know about my… ah… _condition_, then there's nothing for me to hide, is there? At any rate, I assure you that as long as you leave me well alone when you wake, you and I will get along swimmingly."

"'Swimmingly'? That's not a term one hears very often."

"Never mind the adjectives, Haruhi. Aren't you worried about the thu —?"

As though on cue, the room was illuminated very briefly as a fork of lightning cracked the inky sky outside the window, then — _BOOM! _— and Haruhi threw her arms blindly around Kyoya's neck, screaming for dear life. Kyoya was about to pry her fingers off his clothes when he felt her trembling; was she really that scared of thunder?

"Haruhi, you're strangling me. And if you rip my shirt you're going to have to pay for it."

She showed no signs of hearing his threat, which was an empty one anyway; he couldn't help it if she was frightened. Sighing with resignation, he got up, gently coaxed Haruhi's arms off him, and in compensation took her hand to lead her out of the dining room.

As they walked the carpeted corridors of the Ootori manor, Haruhi said softly, "Y-you know your way around here even in the dark?"

"It's my house, Haruhi."

_BOOM!_

Haruhi did not cling to Kyoya's neck; instead, she squeezed his hand as though searching for warmth or reassurance, two things of which he could not provide.

"B-but it's r-really _b-big_, isn't it?" Haruhi continued, gallantly trying to keep a normal conversation even if her teeth were chattering. "Y-yours or not, t-that's still a f-fact."

"How do you manage when you're alone and there's a thunderstorm?" Kyoya asked, deliberately ignoring what her nonsensical mutterings so that he could try to draw her mind away from her fear. His grip tightened instinctively.

"W-well, I n-normally used t-to hide under t-the kotat-tsu."

"And did that help?"

"N-Not really."

Kyoya turned a corner, and kept walking until he knew that his room was a few feet to their left. He stretched out his free arm and began feeling for his doorknob. When he had located it at last, he told Haruhi to go inside. He let her hand go just so he could close the door (she panicked a little), then he took it again and showed her to the bed.

He sat her down on one side of it and said firmly, his hands on her shoulders, "This is your side of the bed. It's only the two of us, so I will say this now: If you want to live, do not cross the invisible boundary I will set between us. We will get equal space, even if I am the owner of this house. I will give you two pillows and your own blanket. Will that suffice?"

Haruhi, who seemed to be taken aback by Kyoya's sudden and unexpected attitude change, muttered an indistinct but earnest "thank you" and became silent.

Kyoya made a beeline for his wardrobe (which had been placed directly across the room from the foot of his bed because in the morning he was too groggy to see where he was going) to get a change of clothes for himself and to look for an extra robe for Haruhi. It would be a bit big for her, but it would be much better for her to sleep in an oversized robe than in her jeans and t-shirt.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "You can get dressed in my bathroom."

"W-What about t-the candles…? I thought you said —"

"Never mind the candles," Kyoya said impatiently. "I forgot to inform my butler that I was moving from the dining hall to my bedroom, so he shouldn't be here until much later. Now change."

"B-but I —"

"It's fine, I'll lead the way."

While Haruhi was inside (she had refused to shut the door because she was too shaken by the thunder to be completely alone in an unfamiliar place, reasoning that it was so dark Kyoya wouldn't be able to see her, anyway), Kyoya replaced his own clothes with his pajamas.

He sat on his bed, the springs beneath the mattress creaking under his weight, and took off his glasses. It had been an exhausting day; he was putting too much of an effort into being hospitable, so most of his usual dark energy had been sapped. He suddenly felt very heavy.

A shadow emerged from the general direction of Kyoya's en-suite bathroom, and Haruhi's voice timidly said, "Thanks again for the robe, senpai. It's really nice of you."

"Don't mention it."

The still air stirred as Haruhi shuffled over to the side of the bed opposite him.

_BOOM!_

Haruhi screamed, much louder this time since there was no one to disturb, and instinctively threw herself under the covers. Her side of the bed was soon a shivering mass of sheets and pillows.

"Haruhi," Kyoya said as he pulled open the covers and stared down at her; she was curled in a tight fetal position, tears leaking out of eyes as she pressed her palms tighter against her ears. "Hiding under my blanket isn't going to stifle the noise."

She made incoherent squeaks in reply.

There was no point in trying to be rational with someone who was scared out of their wits, and since Kyoya had no idea how to comfort that someone, he decided that it would be best to hold her — wouldn't that be the most "conventional" reaction?

She gasped softly, but it was soon overridden by another scream as the thunder got to work trying to make every person in Japan deaf. After all, what merits would Kyoya gain by being kind to her? What was in it for him? To be honest, he himself still didn't know.

"Goodness, it's only a bit of thunder," he said, rocking her back and forth subconsciously. "What, do you think it's going to come in here and snatch you away?"

"I-I used to," she said softly. "When I w-was a k-k-kid, I mean."

Well, that was a surprising bit of information; he would have to take notes later on. "Is that so?"

Haruhi nodded. "I d-didn't want D-Dad to live in o-our ap-partment all al-lone. That's why I h-hid."

Kyoya pulled back to get another good look at her. Her eyes were wide and alert, as though she were still expecting the thunder to take her away from him. They were silently pleading — and Kyoya wasn't made of steel on the inside, you know.

"What kind of reasoning is that? I had no idea you were such an absurd little girl." He let her go, tucked her in, and smoothed her hair back. It struck him that he shouldn't even have known how to do those things, but they all came to him so naturally that he felt awkward once he realized what he was doing. Despite his internal confusion, he remained cool and collected as he got off the bed and looked down at her, pretending to be snide. "Haruhi, you're a grown woman, an able lawyer, and yet here you are, cowering in _my _bed, still afraid of thunder."

Haruhi glared at him reproachfully. "So you're m-mocking me, is that i-it? W-When I'm all shaken up l-like t-this? G-Gee, that's r-really nice of y-y-you."

"No. I'm trying to make you feel better; it's just not working."

"You can s-say that ag-gain."

But Haruhi was calming down. She must have been very sleepy herself; she was acting like a human hosepipe.

"Hey, senpai... You know... i-it's been a while since someone's t-tucked me in…" she mumbled. Then almost as soon as she'd said those words, her eyelids drooped and her breathing evened out until she fell into a deep sleep.

In the end, she and Kyoya had to share one blanket.

Kyoya ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply; he wished sleep would come for him just as easily as it had for her. This girl was going to be the death of him — who knew it was so hard to take care of a living thing? He was definitely not going to make a very good father in the future. That is, if he ever met a woman whom he could tolerate for longer than a few hours.

But just as he was about to turn in for the night as well, his gaze accidentally fell onto Haruhi's sleeping form. She looked more peaceful now, restful, content, and her hair fell into her face with a certain grace that Kyoya had never fully appreciated before.

What was it about her that had changed? She hadn't gotten taller, nor had she become less of a smart-mouthed genius. As Kyoya had already pointed out, she was the much the same as she had ever been.

But Kyoya was supposed to be a merciless ladder-climber, a creature of business-filled, eternally-sleepless nights. He had been raised not to care about others, to look straight ahead, to only look after himself, and to make the most out of every situation so that he had something to gain personally. He was supposed to be a machine, capable of carrying out its tasks without any flaws whatsoever, unfeeling and cold.

What mythical creature had snuck its way into his body to replace his metal heart with something alive and beating?

* * *

><p>Yay, chapter three~! I'm blowing right by the chapters now, I'm just so excited. I'm the one who wrote the freaking thing, but I still get so happy when I see Kyoya being ever so slightly lovey-dovey towards Haruhi. w<br>So let's see what happens next, 'kay~? Stick through it with me till the very end! \(^0^)

Note: I've just edited a grammatical error I spotted when I double-checked it this morning. Sorry 'bout that. ^^'


	4. Chapter 4: The Jewel Lady

_Haruhi's side_

There was no evidence that there had been a thunderstorm the night before, save the excess drops of water glittering on the vast lawns outside. When she awoke, Haruhi felt unexplainably and extremely well-rested and happy. It must have been her dream. She remembered there was a giant teddy bear in it, one that gave her a free lollipop and tutoring lessons for Physics and Calculus (which she enjoyed relearning even though she was a grown-up). And for some strange reason, there was also a man there. Well, no, the man wasn't with the teddy bear — he was in an entirely different part of the dream altogether. He had black hair, but Haruhi couldn't remember what his face looked like. However, she knew that he gave her this warm, fuzzy feeling inside — which was weird.

_Whatever,_ she thought. _What matters is that I survived the night with a type AB Shadow King!_

Kyoya-senpai was lying perfectly still on his side of the bed; he looked a lot less evil when he wasn't conscious. In fact, he looked rather… normal. Haruhi was sorely tempted to rumple up his hair or draw on his face with a marker (not a permanent one, of course), since she had never before seen him looking so vulnerable. But he _was _type-AB, after all, and she _was _rather fond of being alive….

She slipped her legs out from underneath the linen sheets and stretched widely. Kyoya-senpai's room was very bright now, almost golden, and Haruhi could clearly see just how valuable his possessions were — there must have been hundreds of millions of yen within those four walls alone.

_Jeez, this rich bastard really went all out_.

For whom was Kyoya-senpai trying to show off? His father? His brothers? Haruhi felt that she'd never know for sure. The least she could do was steer clear away from anything that wasn't already fixed to the architecture.

She tiptoed to the door and opened it _very quietly _— Kyoya growled in his sleep and rolled over. Hardly daring to breathe, Haruhi crept away and set off in her forty-nine-minute search for the dining hall.

Why did it take her forty-nine minutes, you ask?

Simply because the Ootori manor was bigger than you can ever imagine.

She'd ended up in the library twice (there must have been two, but they looked so identical that she couldn't tell the difference), found herself in a room that was filled with antique divans and tea-tables, wandered into the sitting room (in which there was a portrait of Kyoya, his father, and a lovely woman in a blue dress whom Haruhi did not know), stumbled into what looked like the pantry, ended up in the foyer (where she was presented with a stuffed duffel bag whose contents she had yet to explore), and entered countless guest rooms by accident; she thought she was never going to get out of the place. But then she ran into an elderly maid who was perfectly happy to take her to what Kyoya-senpai had called "the second dining hall" the previous night.

Once Haruhi had sat herself down, the breakfast came almost immediately. There were buttery chocolate croissants, omelets, eggs (sunny-side up) and bacon, South American coffee, fresh fruits, and, for whatever reason, Tabasco hot sauce.

_Oh, well_, Haruhi said to herself, setting the duffel bag next to her chair. _Kyoya-senpai isn't here, so I guess no one will mind if I just dig in~!_

She was just getting started on the croissants (they were strawberries concealed in the center) when she heard some people (all women) talking just outside the dining hall.

"…haven't been here in a while! He's added a lot of new paintings since then — is that Monet an original? And by the way, where _is_ that darling boy?"

"Ootori-sama hasn't woken up yet, I'm afraid."

"Yes, he was up rather late last night."

"Phooey… Up late doing _what_?I was looking forward to sharing some of these! Tamaki sent them over _especially_ for him from Kyoto! That boy has to learn to be a morning person!"

"The other maids and I wouldn't dare disturb the master at this time of day."

"You have a point, but I want to see hiiiiiiiiim!"

The doors were thrown open, and Haruhi met eyes with a startlingly beautiful, wavy-haired lady who was cradling an elaborately-wrapped box in her arm; Haruhi recognized her as the same woman she had seen in the portrait with Kyoya-senpai and his father. The first (corny) thought that entered Haruhi's mind when she laid eyes on her was that she looked like a jewel.

"Oh," the lady said, her hand jumping to her mouth at once. She looked very surprised indeed, as though she had walked in on a tanuki doing the conga on the table. "I didn't realize Kyoya had company."

Haruhi shook her head vigorously and got up. "No, no, you've got the wrong idea, ma'am. There was a thunderstorm last night, and senpai asked me to stay here because of…" Haruhi was considering just telling an outright lie, but she settled on a vague truth. "Er… certain circumstances."

The woman was silent for a moment, then she smiled; it made her look even more beautiful. Who was she? Was she perhaps Kyoya-senpai's bride-to-be? If that were the case, she seemed entirely too hyperactive to be married to such a scheming human being; she would hardly have enough room to spread her wings and be herself. It would be like locking up a lark in a cage for the rest of its life, neither allowing it to fly or sing.

But why did Haruhi feel strangely guilty for seeing Kyoya-senpai as the villain?

The jewel-lady glided over to the table and sat in the same chair Kyoya had occupied the previous night. She intertwined her fingers. "And what might your name be?"

"Er… I'm Fujioka Haruhi."

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed, realization dawning on her flawless features. "So _you're _the girl Tamaki-kun and Kyoya-kun keep talking about! I _knew _you seemed familiar."

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself," the woman said, laughing. "I'm Shido Fuyumi, Kyoya-kun's elder sister."

And so the mystery of the jewel-lady's identity was revealed. Haruhi was startled; Shido-san bore absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to Kyoya-senpai. It wasn't that Kyoya-senpai was ugly, but he was too upright and proper to have been the brother of someone so easygoing.

Catching herself just in time, Haruhi said hastily, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Shido-san."

"Call me Fuyumi," the woman said, inclining her head. "After all, you already feel like a sister to me; I hardly feel that the usual civilities are necessary."

"Well… if you insist," Haruhi replied awkwardly, wondering what Fuyumi could have meant by feeling like they were sisters. "So… er… what was that you said? About Kyoya-senpai and Tamaki-senpai, I mean."

"Oh, that! You do realize that Tamaki-kun completely _adores_ you, Haruhi-chan — you wouldn't mind if I called you Haruhi-chan, would you?"

"Not at all."

"Wonderful!" Fuyumi was glowing. "As I was saying, Tamaki-kun adores you, and he never stops talking! He goes on and on and on about how cute you are, and I have to agree. I could have sworn he would have proposed to you by now."

Fuyumi looked at Haruhi expectantly as though waiting for her to pull an engagement ring out of thin air.

"Er…"

As a matter of fact, he had — on several occasions: Once when she was eating at a ramen shop, another time when she was at the train station buying tickets, again when she was attending a lecture at a museum, and so on and so forth. Still, no matter how friendly Fuyumi appeared, Haruhi was rather reluctant to disclose that information to a complete stranger. She pursed her lips.

"So he hasn't?" Fuyumi's face fell. "What a shame, you would have looked good together… Anyway, Haruhi-chan, Kyoya-kun talks about you, too. Oh, yes, he talks about you! Whenever I ask, all he says is that he thinks you're 'very interesting'." She'd lowered her voice in a bad imitation of Kyoya-senpai, which made Haruhi laugh. "But you know what I think?" Fuyumi continued, her eyes alight with a certain mischief; it was as though she felt elated that she knew something — some ground breaking conspiracy — Haruhi did not.

"My dear little brother actually l —"

"Onee-san?"

Haruhi's head swiveled in the direction of the door, which Fuyumi had left ajar. There stood Kyoya-senpai, leaning against the doorjamb, his hair damp and tousled, his glasses lopsided, his shirt unbuttoned, and his bedroom slippers on the wrong feet. He looked like he'd really let himself go.

"_Kyoya-kun_~!" Fuyumi jumped up in her seat and clapped her hands together delightedly. "I came to visit!" She was about to run to her brother to embrace him when she seemed to remember the gift she had brought. Scooping it up from the table, she handed it to him, looking very pleased with herself. "Here's a little something for you! It's from Tamaki, and I offered to hand it to you personally."

"That nitwit…" Kyoya-senpai muttered under his breath. He reluctantly took the box. "If that's the only reason you came by, onee-san, you shouldn't feel obliged to stay any longer than you need to. Brother-in-law must be looking for you — does he even know you're here?"

"Yes, I told him that I —"

"Nevertheless, I'll tell the chauffeur to drive you home."

Fuyumi pouted. "But I want to _stay_! Don't you _ever _miss your sister?"

"Onee-san, I see you every week," Kyoya-senpai said patiently. "Didn't I drop by your house last Thursday to bring you some chocolate cake from Usa-chan Sugar? Honey-senpai even sent you his regards. And then there was the week before, when I brought over some shoes you'd forgotten to pack for your trip to Greece."

It was then Fuyumi decided to play her trump card. "But what about Haruhi-chan?" she wailed. "I want to talk to her, too! How could you have hidden such a sweetheart from me for so long?"

"'Haruhi-chan'?" Kyoya-senpai repeated blankly. Then he looked over Fuyumi's shoulder and saw Haruhi sitting at the dining table, her croissant halfway to her mouth as she watched the exchange between the polar-opposite siblings. "Ah, yes. Good morning, Haruhi."

"Thanks for remembering I was here, senpai." Haruhi took a bite out of her croissant and washed it down with a generous gulp of coffee. She couldn't care less what Kyoya-senpai thought of her, so she'd ignored him when he'd said "Haruhi-chan" — even if he was just repeating his sister's words.

"Forgive me, I'm still half-asleep." He _did _look irritated, but at least he wasn't trying to chew all their heads off. He turned to his sister and gave her permission, evidently against his will, to stay at the manor for as long as she wished — provided, of course, that she didn't pester him unless absolutely necessary.

"You won't even know I'm here!" Fuyumi said cheerfully.

When Kyoya-senpai and Fuyumi joined Haruhi at the table, she felt that she was intruding on some private family moment. She had never seen Kyoya-senpai with his sister before, and around her he acted differently; he was still aloof and determined to remains stoic, but Haruhi saw that it was a whole new side of him altogether.

Contradictory to her previous opinions, she thought about how mysterious Kyoya-senpai still was to her, how deep and unexplored his mind was. She wanted to know more about him, to watch him, to figure him out. It was the most bizarre feeling, but she wanted to, more so than any other time that she had ever been with him. Never before had she wanted to find out so much about the man who had made a game of constantly dangling her debt in front of her face.

* * *

><p>"…I look like a mess."<p>

"Nonsense, Kyoya-kun, you look adorable as always!"

"Onee-san, look at me — I've got bedhead, and my shirt is open. Is that what 'adorable' is to you?"

Haruhi munched her croissant thoughtfully, not even glancing his way.

Without a word, Kyoya buttoned up his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. Once he was sure that he had made himself look reasonably presentable, he helped himself to some eggs and bacon. He sprinkled his eggs with a healthy amount of Tabasco.

"That's an awful lot of hot sauce," Haruhi remarked; she was the first to finish.

"I'm rather fond of spicy food, you see," Kyoya said unconcernedly.

"He's been that way ever since he was little," Fuyumi explained (she had already eaten breakfast at her own house and had declined Kyoya's offer of having his chef prepare waffles with cream). She was watching Kyoya dotingly; it was as though she were his mother. Still, Kyoya had never met anyone less like a mother than Fuyumi. She had always been a klutz, so distracted that she couldn't even walk straight most of the time.

"Kyoya-kun, are you thinking about going to town this afternoon?" Fuyumi inquired suddenly. "It's a lovely day."

"Unfortunately, I can't; I have to read through some paperwork after lunch. The company is planning to make another deal with Kazashima, and I'd hoped to seal the contract by the end of the week."

Fuyumi's expression turned into that of pity mingled with overwhelming affection; it was difficult to meet her eyes. The thing about his lighthearted sister was her unwavering sincerity, and the fact that she never lied to him. She was one of the very few people who stirred his insubstantial conscience.

"Do me a favor, will you, Kyoya-kun?" she said imploringly. "Please take Haruhi-chan here out today. I've been so worried about you. You know that Tamaki-kun and I are in regular correspondence with each other, so he's told me all about how much you've been working. You never rest, he says, except for when you go to sleep at night, and you don't even turn in early. Could you please take a break, even if it's only for today? It would put your dear sister at ease."

There it was — her inconceivably compelling voice of persuasion, the only voice that had been enough to make him keep his head down so many times in the past. It was the sort of voice that made you want to listen, the sort of voice that ought to have belonged to a parent. How could he say no to her after she had used her ultimate move against him? He was at her mercy.

He sighed, knowing that within minutes — or seconds, if he failed to stand his ground — he would lose. "What about my paperwork?"

Fuyumi looked marginally happier when he said this; she, too, had realized that she had won the skirmish. "I'll telephone your secretary and ask her to have someone else do it."

_Seconds._

"Very well," Kyoya said. He looked at Haruhi, who hadn't said a single word throughout the entire conversation; she was still nibbling her croissant. The only difference was that only a fourth of her coffee remained in her cup. "Haruhi, are you okay with this arrangement?"

"Only if I pay for my own food."

Kyoya was confused. "Why?"

Haruhi dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "I can't help but feel that you'll hold every nice thing you've ever done for me above my head. You'll only use the feeling of my being indebted to you to your advantage, and I don't really think much of being used."

"Kyoya-kun!" Fuyumi said, her tone reprimanding; Kyoya half expected her to slap him across his forearm. "Is _that _how you've been treating this little dream?"

"When we were in high school," Kyoya answered unabashedly.

"I won't have any of that," Fuyumi said firmly, frowning now. "You're going to let Haruhi-chan buy whatever she wants today, no matter how expensive, understood?"

Haruhi was a relatively simple creature, and she disliked reckless spending. It would be quite easy to go shopping with someone like her, so Kyoya wasn't worried; the only reason she had been a monetary liability to him when they were young was the fact that Tamaki and the others made it their business to shower her with luxurious presents. When she was alone, she was just another thrifty commoner.

"I have no objections to that," he said.

Haruhi narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious. She never trusted him when yen signs were part of the equation, and so it still was many years after they had left school.

"Are you sure about this, senpai?"

"You know me when it comes to money, but I'm afraid that if I don't do as onee-san says, I'll be sent to bed without dinner."

"Hmph! And serve you right!" Fuyumi said, her arms crossed.

"And are _you_ coming, onee-san?"

Fuyumi changed tack at top speed; she had been disapproving only a moment ago and now she was playing the harmless martyr. "Don't mind me, Kyoya-kun, I'll be just fine here! Besides, I haven't gone swimming for _ages_, and I was wondering if I might use your pool."

"Doesn't your mansion have one?" Kyoya asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not an indoor one," Fuyumi said innocently. "You take Haruhi-chan, onee-san will have a _wonderful_ time here alone."

Kyoya nodded. He understood his sister inside and out, so she didn't fool him; she had something up her sleeve, and he would be ready for it. "If there are no more objections, I'll send for the car."

Surprised, Haruhi asked, "Don't you have a chauffeur?"

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and got up. "Of course I do," he said as he walked toward the door, "but that doesn't mean I don't know how to drive."

* * *

><p>A few minutes later, Kyoya was waiting in the entrance hall, his foot tapping to an intangible rhythm. He was now donning a coat and a scarf to combat the September chill. Outside, the light breeze disturbed the tranquility of the sunlight-dappled leaves in the garden, and birds nestled themselves among the many tangled branches of his trees. Peaceful. It <em>was<em> a lovely day.

"Okay, senpai, I'm ready."

Kyoya turned, ready to ask her what had taken her so long, and became instantaneously speechless. If he were the same man he had been before meeting Haruhi that fateful night at Tamaki's movie premiere, he wouldn't have spared her a second glance; he would have ushered her straight out the door. But now things were different.

Haruhi was wearing a very becoming, many-layered dress under her coat, clutching at a fluffy muffler around her neck.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," she said, noticing his stare and looking grim. "This morning while I was looking for the dining room (it's a long story), I ran into a butler who gave me a bag with a change of clothes. There was a note from Dad inside. He said he threw out all my old clothes last night and replaced him with some new ones from Hikaru and Kaoru — according to the note, they'd been planning that for months, except I'm never out of the house long enough for them to get rid of everything. I just _knew _I was missing a few jumpers…. Ah, well. In other words, my wardrobe's all girly, so don't be surprised if I end up wearing stuff like _this _from now on." It was apparent that she found it uncomfortable to walk as she stumbled toward him. "_Ugh_, it's so hard to _move_!"

"No," Kyoya said a moment too late, turning away so that she wouldn't see his face. "It suits you very well."

Before he could make a fool of himself, he went out the front door and walked briskly toward the garage.

"Senpai, wait up!"

"You won't get lost."

"Yeah, but I'll get tired!" She sounded irritated, so Kyoya slowed up.

The garage housed his five cars, all of which were kept in tip-top shape by Kyoya's chauffeurs. He chose his pitch-black Porsche and opened the passenger's side door for Haruhi.

"Chivalry? Are you that old-fashioned?"

Kyoya shrugged. "I'm a changed man."

The drive into town was long, probably because Kyoya refused to speak to her. He kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to read her. Even though it had been reasonably easy for him to assess her emotions back when they were in the host club together, he'd still found it unusually arduous. It would take him at least a quarter of an hour's distant observation to say that he knew what she was feeling, and that was just a generalization based on her actions and facial expressions. But never, not once, did he figure out what on earth was going on inside her head.

The scenery flashed past his peripheral vision, blurs of green and blue and gray. It was as though he were a teenager again, moving through his life in fast-forward, neglecting all the beauty and livelihood of adolescence, bent on emerging as the victorious prodigy he had always fought to be.

"Oh, look, it's a _horse_!" Haruhi exclaimed suddenly, pressing her nose against the window to ogle at the beautiful roan animal as it grazed in a field beside a sprawling mansion. "It looks really well-cared for…"

"Yes, it belongs to one of my business partners. He has more in the stables."

Haruhi turned away from the window to stare at him incredulously. "What is it with you and your kind? What's the use of all this lavish expenditure?"

Kyoya's glasses flashed white in the glare of the sun. "We have both wealth and power. However we use it differs from person to person."

"Damn rich people…"

Kyoya stifled a laugh, which luckily Haruhi had not heard. "If I'm correct, though, Haruhi, you are neither as impoverished as you were before nor as rich as I have always been. But I understand you've got more in the bank than the average commoner family."

"Hard work, that's how I got it."

Kyoya raised his eyebrows. So this was going to be a debate, huh?

Debates were enjoyable — especially when you were on the winning side.

"Are you trying to imply that I acquired my fortune through illegitimate means, Haruhi? Don't think of me so lowly; it makes me seem rather disgraceful. I may not have been entirely honest in the past, but I'm not a thief, you know. I'm a liar, I'll admit, but not a thief or a plunderer or whatever words you commoners use to describe the corrupt folk. Wealth notwithstanding, I had to put in some hard work, too."

"I didn't say anything like that, so what are you being all defensive for? I was just saying that not all of us are born rolling in money." Haruhi looked like she was anticipating winning the debate, too.

"_That _I was, but I also accumulated enough of my share of our club's earnings to build my empire. I deserve this."

"_Sure_, you do, Shadow King."

And they let the matter rest. Neither of them was declared the official winner of their on-the-spot argument, but that didn't matter to Kyoya anymore.

What a lovely day indeed.

* * *

><p>YAY FOR CHAPTER FOUR~! Well~? Is the suspense killing you yet? Kyoya and Haruhi have set off into town together! The long-awaited "date arc" has arrived! *insert trumpet music*<br>I've actually finished writing the whole date scene, but I wanted to add a little mystery to the story for once. XD  
>So please stick around for chapter five~!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5: That Waiter

Kyoya decided to take Haruhi to Usa-chan Sugar. Both of them were still full of breakfast, but Haruhi had never been to one of Honey-senpai's cake shops before, and since there was one in the area, Kyoya figured she should.

"This is the main branch," Kyoya explained as he held the door open for her. The air-conditioned mini-gust that blew out at him made him shiver a little.

"Why's it all the way out here?"

"Because Honey-senpai likes visiting my home for the rabbit enclosure I set up just for him. I wanted him to be a tester for part of one of my company's latest rehabilitation projects — a petting zoo."

This is how Kyoya would describe the café if he were looking at it through a regular human's eyes: The place was almost sickeningly cute. Each armchair had a fluffy embroidered pillow you could lean on as you ate. There were frilly curtains and pink place-mats everywhere. A display shelf contained the cakes of the day, glistening with cool, inviting moisture beneath the frosty glass. Men and women dressed in striped pink outfits hurried around the room delivering tea and slices of cakes to the other customers.

"Good morning, sir," asked a smiling, dimpled waitress who had seen them come in. She was holding a menu. "Table for two?"

Kyoya smiled. "Yes, thank you."

They were lead to a cozy corner table where a bunch of roses in a vase stood waiting for them. They sank into the armchairs and Haruhi took the menu the waitress gave them.

"Why'd she give us just one?" Haruhi wondered aloud.

Kyoya shrugged. "A shortage? You shouldn't concern yourself with the little things, Haruhi. Make your order."

"Aren't _you _going to have anything?"

"Another cup of coffee will do."

"Well, at least let _me _buy you a cake. Don't worry, I'll get you the coldest, bitterest one they have. As they say — 'you are what you eat'." She was grinning.

"I don't like bitter things. Coffee's the only exception," Kyoya said flatly. "I prefer spicy food, as I've already told you."

"I don't care," she replied. "Just choose. If you don't like it, give it to me."

Kyoya rose and moved to her side so that he could look at the menu over her shoulder. His face was so close to hers that he could hear the gentleness of her breathing; he had been that close to her only once before, after a long, tiring day at the beach. Haruhi had almost died then, and he had taken advantage of her….

"You didn't have to get up, senpai," she said, her tone suggesting that she thought he was being, as she had once put it, "Tamaki-senpai-ish". "I was about to give you the menu."

"I'm here now, aren't I? And I'll take the dark chocolate cake, worth eight hundred yen, thanks. That shouldn't be too heavy on your pocket."

"Yeah, yeah, now get back over there."

He did so, and in the process he called a waiter over to their table; he was tall and blonde. When the waiter turned, Kyoya saw that he wasn't really a waiter at all. It took him an extreme amount of effort to stop himself from sighing in exasperation. What was that "waiter" _thinking_?

"Good _morning_, guest-chan and guest-chan~! Lovely day, isn't it~? Perfect for a date — and you two look _so_ cute together~!" the blonde waiter said brightly. He was wearing bunny ears and his smile was unbearably sweet. "May I take your order~?"

"We'll have one strawberry cream and one dark chocolate, please," Haruhi said. She was staring at him, but there was no evidence of recognition on her face. "Oh, and some milk tea, too."

"Coming riiiiiiight up~!"

And the waiter dashed — or rather, skipped — away, dodging co-workers and customers as he went.

"What about my coffee?"

"Senpai," Haruhi said, "I saw you drink _four cups_ of coffee this morning. Don't you think the overdose of caffeine is bad for your body? And I thought you were supposed to be an expert in the medical field…."

Kyoya glanced over to the counter, where the "waiter" was balancing six trays all at once as his fellows watched him in alarm.

"Does he look familiar to you?" Kyoya asked nonchalantly.

"You mean the waiter? _Sort_ of... I think Honey-senpai's high school cuteness might have gotten permanently stuck in my psyche; no one that old can pull of an adorable act like that. Why?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough."

Because the waiter was back.

"Here you go —," he said, placing one of the trays on their table, "a strawberry cream cake with _extra_ strawberries for the cute lady, and a dark chocolate cake for the shady gentleman~! And here's your tea, and some sugar cubes, too, if you think it isn't sweet enough~!"

"Wait a second," Haruhi said slowly, not even bothering to look at how appetizing her cake was. "How did you know I liked strawberries so —?"

When she paused, Kyoya saw that it was all she could do not to point into the waiter's face. There it was. He smirked, poured himself some tea, and drank.

"HONEY-SENPAI?" she whisper-yelled. "What in the _world _are you doing?"

"It took you a lot longer to see through my disguise, Haru-chan," Honey-senpai said, taking off his bunny ears and putting his hands on his hips. "I'd've thought being a lawyer sharpened your senses. Oh well~! I've already stayed too long as it is. I hope you two enjoy your food~!"

And he skipped away again, giggling madly.

"What. Was. _That_?" She looked like she thought Kyoya had tricked her somehow.

"Honey-senpai, who else?" He continued to sip his tea serenely, unmindful of Haruhi's penetrating glare, with which she was apparently trying to bore a hole into his forehead.

"But he's so… so —!"

"Tall?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Well, you're in regular contact with the rest of the host club but you don't actually get to see them, do you? Honey-senpai got his growth spurt a year after school. He's nearly as tall as Mori-senpai now. And hadn't you ever noticed the change in his voice? It's been three octaves deeper since he grew."

"You're… you're _kidding_… I could tell his voice got deeper, but _that _I could still accept. He's not _supposed _to — I mean, you guys always said that the 'loli-shota' character wasn't _meant _to — How the hell did he get so —? I never would have associated his voice getting deeper with him actually _growing_. He's meant to be _tiny_. It's the natural order of life, for crying out loud!"

"Oh, that was my doing. I regularly gave him 'special vitamins' that inhibited his hormones from changing his height — the host club needs a 'loli-shota' type to make considerable profit, after all. Your cake's getting warm."

Haruhi's mouth had fallen open in disbelief, but she jerked out of her momentary trance-like state and gazed unseeingly at her plate. She stayed that way for a few more seconds until she realized that she was supposed to eat it.

"Darn it, I forgot to tell him how delicious this looks…"

"I'll remember to talk to him before we leave. Mine isn't so bad, either. I quite like it."

* * *

><p>The rest of their stay at the café was notably uneventful, except maybe that Haruhi kept stealing glances at the doors to the kitchen, trying to force her eyes to see through the wood and get another peek at giant Honey-senpai. Before they left, however, Kyoya excused himself and went to the kitchen in search of Honey-senpai, unceremoniously leaving Haruhi with the bill; she was still stuttering incoherently when he'd left.<p>

"Pardon my rudeness, senpai," Kyoya said when he had spotted Honey sitting on a stack of flour sacks, eating his way through half a dozen leftover cakes, "but why were you spying on us?"

Without bothering to make a cover-up story, Honey-senpai replied, "I wanted to see how it would go~! And you should be thanking me, Kyo-chan — a lot of our old host club customers came to see me today, and because I knew you were coming I told them all to leave for a little while. They're cute, but they can be a bit nosy sometimes, and I wanted to make sure you and Haru-chan had a good time without worrying about being seen by others~!" He looked proud of himself. He opened his mouth wide and placed a lump of whipped cream the size of a child's fist onto his tongue. He drew it in and smacked his lips. "Mmm, that was _yummy_~!"

He'd certainly gotten taller, but he still acted like a nine-year-old — he'd always claimed that his mental age was years before his true one due to the fact that his birthday was on the twenty-ninth of February. In fact, the only "cute" accessory he was missing was Usa-chan; if he had _that _the backwards-transition from successful and responsible adult to shota-con would be complete.

"Yes, but you delivered quite a shock to Haruhi over there; she could barely eat." Kyoya adjusted his glasses. "Maybe you should have delivered the blow a bit more gently. If you really wanted to watch (and I'm not saying that your actions are justified by your flimsy reasoning), you should have sent over another waiter first and looked over at us from the kitchen window, or perhaps installed surveillance cameras — you know you can't fool me looking like that."

"But Kyo-chan," Honey-senpai said mysteriously, licking icing off his fingers one by one. "You're really starting to see a bit clearer, you know~?"

Kyoya turned on his heel, and it was only when he had started the engine and drove away did he realize that he had forgotten to compliment the cakes.

* * *

><p>Haruhi was over the initial shock by the time Kyoya pulled over next to a commoner's shopping arcade. Fairy lights hung from the lamp posts and the every window was papered to opaqueness with numerous "sale" announcements. Children navigated their way recklessly around the adults' legs, laughing and playing with balloons and cheap plastic toys their parents had bought them. Vendors and salesclerks stood outside their respective stores, advertising their goods in loud, falsely energetic voices. Tamaki would have loved it there.<p>

"Oh, are you planning to buy something here, senpai?" Haruhi said, peering out at the arcade.

Kyoya turned off the ignition and looked at her askance. "No, I wouldn't shop in a place like this. I merely thought you might like to have a look around."

"Wow. Again, thanks for emphasizing the difference between us money-wise. You are the most tactful rich person ever."

"You're welcome."

Sarcasm was one of Haruhi's fortes; she could make anyone's confidence falter with a single sentence. But Kyoya was not just "anyone".

"At any rate," he said, "onee-san will kill me if we return home without you carrying some shopping bags. We have to at least pretend that you had fun."

Haruhi froze. "Are you _one hundred percent sure_ you won't charge me for anything?"

"One hundred percent sure."

Haruhi was more interested in food than anything else. She stopped at every stall that sold edible things, and several times she took out her wallet to buy some discount sushi or meat or vegetables. While Kyoya did his best to keep track of her, he could never shake off the distinct feeling that they were being watched — but whenever he turned his head to look for the source of the intense gaze (or gaze_s_), there was never anyone there. Still, he decided to stay on his toes in case _those people _were hot on their tail.

"This is great!" Haruhi said, blissfully happy, as her purchases dangled from her arms in plastic bags. "This is going to make a _terrific _spread when I get back home!"

"I told you that I was going to handle your expenses for today, and yet you shoot off and take your purse out without letting me do a thing," Kyoya said, beginning to feel the nagging effects of slight frustration. This woman was too independent.

"Yeah, but food's an entirely different matter," Haruhi said. Her head was moving back and forth as she scoured the stores with her well-practiced eyes for stuff she wanted to buy. "Oh, _look_, some tofu! I can fry that up and eat it when I watch my favorite show this weekend!"

Haruhi left Kyoya's side to hurry off toward the salesman who greeted her with a broad smile as she approached.

She gave off an air of grown-up sophistication even when she was in the perfect setting for commoners, but somehow she managed to blend in. These were her kind of people. This was where she belonged. She had never been meant to live in the lap of luxury or spend money on things she didn't need. She was very practical and down-to-earth. Kyoya thought she was admirable that way.

"Hey, Haruhi," Kyoya called to her abruptly.

"What is it?" she called back, still grinning from the giddiness that accompanied her fruitful search for meal items.

"I want you to take a look at something."

He had passed it by a few minutes ago as he walked in Haruhi's wake, noticing it only when he had whipped around to check, for the twelfth time, if someone was following. It was a jewelry store with genuine merchandise. Every facet of it glittered and twinkled as though it had been showered with real stars one cold night.

"What about it?" Haruhi said, dispassionate. As Kyoya had thought, the jewels did nothing to stir her fancy; she would much rather be at the supermarket than in a "girly" place like this.

"Do you… like butterflies? They seem to be extremely popular in the jewelry industry nowadays." Kyoya asked, still standing outside the display window. The women from inside stared at him openly; a couple of them were whispering to one another behind their hands, and you didn't have to be a mastermind to know what they were so excited about.

"Butterflies?" Haruhi looked taken aback by his question. If Kyoya was somehow bestowed with the power to read her thoughts at that exact second, he figured her mind would be saying something along the lines of: _What the hell? Is he on drugs? _"I don't mind them, but when I was a kid I used to have a lot of fun catching them and keeping them in jars. I always let them go after a little while, though."

Before Haruhi could protest, the door was opened, the transaction was made, and suddenly she had a brand new sterling silver band around her right-hand ring finger. It had only one design: a delicate monarch butterfly.

"What the _hell _is up with _this_?" she asked, incredulous, waggling her finger in front of Kyoya's face. She had been restraining herself so hard in the shop that her face had gone red with effort. Now that they were out in open air again, she was shouting. "This cost you _a hundred thousand yen_! I can't _pay_ for _this_! Are you out of your _mind, _senpai?"

"Keep it down, you're causing a scene." Kyoya slipped the receipt into his wallet and put that in his back pocket. "It's like I said; I paid for that of my own accord. I'm not going to make you return it to me in cash. It's a present — keep it. Onee-san will be satisfied with that, I think."

Haruhi blushed and stomped along, nose in the air, refusing to meet his eyes. "Well, you're not getting _married _to me, are you, senpai? Back in that store, it was so _embarrassing_, I thought I was going to die! You put it on my finger, for crying out loud! It was like you were proposing! You and Tamaki-senpai are cut from the same cloth after all! Do you enjoy making me look like an idiot?"

"Ah. Yes and no," Kyoya answered vaguely, his eyes sliding to the alley they were passing; he could have sworn he saw a shadow dart behind a fruit stand next to it. A shadow with a shadow, actually.

"Yes and — huh?"

"To be frank, Haruhi, your reactions are quite… amusing," Kyoya admitted, smiling in a sinister sort of way.

"So that's it? This is a game?" Haruhi said furiously. She ripped the silver circle from her finger and was about to throw it to the ground when she stopped. She was breathing rather hard, like she had just run a marathon. Passers-by stared at them curiously (thinking that it was a manga-chapter-worthy lovers' tiff, most likely), and Kyoya looked at her in calm wonderment. Haruhi clenched her hand tightly into a fist, but her fingers slackened around the ring and she dropped her arm to her side.

"You were really nice to me last night," she said in hushed tones. She seemed to be trying to repent for her sudden outbreak of violence, and the onlookers, seeing that the exciting part was over, moved away and stepped back into the cool, unruffled shade their own lives.

Haruhi unconsciously stroked the silver wings on her finger. Sheepishly, she said, "You've always been really scary, senpai, but something's different about you now that we're older. So… I guess I'll just… er… take this ring and… er… thanks. I'll take care of it."

Kyoya smiled. "It's my pleasure."

* * *

><p>When they returned to the manor that afternoon, Haruhi had fallen asleep in the passenger's seat. She appeared to be peaceful. Kyoya watched her breathe for a little while. The sight of her as she slept placated him; she looked like felt safe around him.<p>

With an exasperated sigh, he decided to give in.

_Just this once._

He bent over her and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. It was the barest brush of his untouched lips against her white skin, but that was enough.

In the flash of that moment he was brought back to his second year of high school. His skin had felt raw from the sea breeze that he had painstakingly endured all afternoon, trying to keep his gaggle of animated female customers in check with a million-dollar smile permanently etched into his face. The sun had already set, and thunderclouds were fast approaching. The lights had been turned off and he had thrown her onto the bed — he was on top of her, shirtless and fresh from his evening shower. She had been wearing a pink nightgown. He remembered that her eyes were wide with curious surprise.

"As a man I could take you on whenever I wanted," he'd crooned, "and as a woman you wouldn't be able to stop me. You're too naïve for your own good. Do you really think gender doesn't matter?"

Haruhi had been thoughtful and unmoving as Kyoya inched his face closer and closer to hers, pinning her arms down. When she'd spoken at last, she was so casual and matter-of-fact that they could have been talking back in the Third Music Room: "You wouldn't do this, Kyoya-senpai. There's nothing in it for you if you molest me."

Kyoya had pushed himself off of her and sat on the edge of the bed. He'd put his glasses back on and chuckled softly.

"You are indeed very interesting," he had murmured. "But you understand, don't you?"

"Yup, clear as day," Haruhi had said in reply, sitting up as well. She was smiling knowingly now. She was acting like he had not just tried to rape her. "You're trying to be nice."

Her answer had taken him by surprise. "…What are you talking about?"

"Huh? But wasn't that the point of this whole charade?"

_Point…?_

"You pretended to be the bad guy to teach me a lesson, right?"

Tamaki had burst in just then, asking for some lotion for his stinging sunburn, effectively ending Kyoya's and Haruhi's conversation. Kyoya had pressed the bottle of lotion against the idiot's face and made up some excuse so that he could leave them alone together; it was about time Haruhi apologized for causing everyone in the club to worry…

He had told her that he hadn't worried. He had told her that all he was concerned about were the prices of bouquets he had sent the customers to compensate for the traumatizing ordeal they had undergone — fifty thousand yen per person, not to mention having had to stop the Hitachiin twins from committing murder. He had told her that he hadn't worried.

While it was true that nothing could be gained from molesting her, when Haruhi had said that he had only tried to do so "teach her a lesson", she had been but half-right. Though he had nothing to gain financially, he would have treated himself to a rare, unbeneficial pleasure: the pleasure of giving in to his feelings for just one night. His original plan _had _simply been to make her see that she was wrong about gender being unimportant, but somewhere along the way he'd realized that he harbored feelings for her, too, though he felt for her comparatively less than his club mates. It may not have been the romantic love that he had perceived was blossoming within Tamaki's and Hikaru's hearts, but it was attraction nonetheless. It had taken him a tremendous amount of effort to remember that his reputation was at stake.

That was the day that he had decided he would give up on her and let his best friend realize that he loved her first.

Because whatever Ootori Kyoya may have said about that moron out loud, Suou Tamaki was still the most important person in his life.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Kyoya-kun! You're back already!"<p>

"Did you have a nice swim?"

"The water was marvelously warm."

Fuyumi greeted them at the front door, trying to hide her contentment: Kyoya had carried Haruhi from the garage back to the manor. She hadn't woken up when he had kissed her, nor when he had lifted her from her seat. She slept like a log, and was just as heavy as one, too.

"She fell asleep on our way back," Kyoya explained, stepping out of his shoes and letting his sister remove his scarf, "and since it's so late I think we should let her stay one more night. Is that all right, onee-san?"

"But of course." Fuyumi folded his scarf and hung it on her arm. "This is your house. The decision-making comes down to you in the end."

"You're my older sister. I think very highly of your opinion of me."

Fuyumi's smile softened. "And you're my baby brother, Kyoya-kun. No matter what you choose to do, I'll be cheering you on."

Kyoya made his way up the wide staircase at the end of the entrance hall, the day's exhaustion beginning to creep into his muscles. Haruhi stirred in his arms, and he held her closer.

Without looking over his shoulder as he scaled the seemingly endless steps, he said, "I didn't get her much, onee-san, but will a ring do?"

Fuyumi beamed and clutched the scarf to her chest. "That's more than enough."

She must have thought that her brother was out of earshot, because Kyoya faintly heard her giggle to herself and say with quiet satisfaction, "You've become a fine young man."

* * *

><p>Yaaaaaaay~! It's finally happened~! The long-awaited KISS! But I'm really sorry for not making it more dramatic, like on the lips. ^^; Kyoya just doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would do that. He's not all mushy, I'm just trying to stop him from going OOC. It feels more natural that way. XD<br>Anyhow, the next chapter's coming up real soon, sorry it took so long for me to make an update~  
>Buuuuut if you've just found this fanfic and I have already uploaded chapter six, then move right along and enjoy the rest of the story~!<p>

EDIT: I managed to find a few errors both in this chapter and in the next one, so I've just fixed them. Sorry for the trouble~!


	6. Chapter 6: Revelation, Shinai, Unchanged

Kyoya returned to the shopping district after he had put Haruhi to bed, assuring Fuyumi, whom he had passed on his way out, that he was only going back because he had forgotten to show Honey-senpai the proper civilities he was due. In reality, Kyoya was agitated, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel the whole way there. The place was much brighter now that the surroundings were naturally dim. The fairy lights added to the misty, carefree atmosphere. There were commoners as far as the eye could see — but there was a particular group of attention-grabbing young men who stood out as though they were wearing signs on their heads. They were so caught up in their conversation that they didn't notice Kyoya coming toward them.

"…we've stayed out here for too long, Tono," a stylishly-dressed twin was saying. "They went home two hours ago! And it's getting pretty crowded here."

"I don't even know what we're standing in the middle of the street for," said the other twin, shrugging. "We're causing unnecessary foot traffic. Ah. Let's go eat some Italian food, I'm famished."

"Yeah, Tama-chan, they'll be fine~! I already told you about what I saw in the café, right, Takashi~?"

A tall man with dark hair and finely-toned muscles nodded and placed a comforting hand on a prince-like one's shoulder. "Tamaki, I have faith Kyoya. He may seem like a suspicious character at first glance, but he has my complete trust."

"But you _guuuuuuys_! I can't _accept _it! That _Demon King _is off gallivanting with my beloved daughter!" wailed the pathetic-looking prince. He was flailing his arms around, and twice he almost hit unsuspecting passersby in their faces.

"Just _who _is gallivanting with _whom _in this scenario?" Kyoya said with as much menace as he could muster in his exhausted state.

Tamaki twitched and jumped a foot away from him, cowering under his furious gaze. "K-K-K-Kyoya…! Goodness, what a d-delightful coincidence! What could you be doing here? T-T-The others and I were here for a… scenic tour! Yeah, that's it! We'd read about this _lovely _place in a… er… a…"

"On the internet~!" Honey-senpai said helpfully, looking very serious, raising his hand as though answering a teacher's question in class.

"Why, yes, yes! The World Wide Web can be quite useful, can't it? H-Hahaha!" Tamaki blubbered on.

"Cut the act, Tono, Kyoya-senpai's not that dumb," Hikaru said.

"Yup, we've been found out," Kaoru added, shaking his head as Tamaki made exaggerated, frantic gestures, obviously telling him to zip it before Kyoya was exposed to the plan — as if he needed to."Might as well tell him the truth."

"Shut up, the both of you," Kyoya snapped. "What I want to know — I don't care whoever has to answer as long as I get one — is _why_ you were following Haruhi and I! If you lie, I _will _find out — _Mark. My. Words._"

Tamaki yelped with fright. His hands were twisting and untwisting behind his back as he tried to come up with a satisfactory excuse.

"W-W-W-Well, I, as her f-father, w-w-was supremely worried about her welfare, s-s-s-so I took it upon myself to r-r-round up the rest of the host club to f-f-f-follow you on your…" He gulped. "…d-d-d-date."

"And _who_ was the informant who gave you the details regarding this 'date'?"

Tamaki refused to answer; he pressed his lips together, crossed his arms in defiance, and shook his head so violently that he became dizzy and stood swaying on the spot.

"It was the very lovely Shido Fuyumi-oneesan!" Hikaru and Kaoru said in unison. "She supported Tono and wanted us to look after the two of you in her stead! In return we offered her exclusive photos of you and Haruhi together!"

"That sister of mine…," Kyoya growled, Fuyumi's image taking his imagination over. "And to _think _I was actually willing to let her off the hook. She won't get away so easily _this _time."

"M-M-Mommy dear, you understand why I w-w-wanted to keep track of you t-t-two," Tamaki said anxiously. "Right…?"

"_No_, I most certainly do _not_. What is so wrong with my going out with her? It's not like I was planning to use extortion or underworld tactics on her to add to my already sufficient financial resources! I personally find it _insulting_ that you felt we had to be babysat like a couple of preschoolers!"

"Kyoya-senpai, let us put it this way," Hikaru said.

"You are the evilest creature to walk the mortal Japanese world. End of story," Kaoru finished, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "There's nothing we can do if we're concerned about her. When we were kids all you ever did was threaten her with your money and power. It was always, 'Haruhi, if you don't do such and such a thing, I will triple your debt', or 'Haruhi, unless you want me to mass produce photos of you rolling around on the floor and laughing, I suggest you do as I say.' You were pretty harsh."

"Kao-chan's right, Kyo-chan," Honey-senpai agreed serenely.

Mori-senpai nodded. "If you have anyone to blame, it's yourself. I may trust you, but that does not mean that your morals towards people like Haruhi are admirable."

Kyoya became speechless. He had not realized that the others saw him this way; they had always been wary of his temperamental disposition, so he had neglected their other opinions of him. So this is what was going on in their heads back then? How uncharacteristically observant. This wasn't quite true for the senpais — they were very perceptive, after all. But even though Honey-senpai occasionally voiced his observations, he preferred being a spectator. Mori-senpai hardly ever spoke, and his mind always seemed to be filled with the most trivial of things.

"Do you understand now, Kyoya?" Tamaki said, his tone now gentle. Now that the others were backing him up he had calmed down and had regained control. He relaxed his stance and smiled a little, sympathizing with his puzzlement. "We wanted to make sure first."

Kyoya blinked. "Make sure of what?"

"That the human emotion which we thought was irreversibly dormant inside you had finally shown itself."

* * *

><p>The following morning, Kyoya was in an exceptionally bad mood. He had no idea just what had caused it, but he was angry at everything, left, right, and center. He had slept well enough, considering the fact that he had done a whole lot of thinking before his eyes became too heavy to keep open, but the moment the first alarm rang he wanted to smash the nearest lamp to bits — which wouldn't have been very smart, since it cost him quite a lot. His hot-headedness must have had something to do with whatever he had been dreaming about the previous night, in addition to the internal turmoil he had endured at the expense of what his "friends" had told him.<p>

Three hours previously, just around Kyoya's waking time, Fuyumi (who had decided, with permission from her husband, to stay the night, as well) had knocked on his bedroom door to say that Haruhi, who of course was completely oblivious to the events prior to Kyoya's entering dreamland, had gone home much earlier. She had apparently been thanking them all profusely for their hospitality and wouldn't cease until she was too far away to be heard.

So when Kyoya had arrived at work, he had snapped at a confused Souji, telling her not to disturb him unless it was absolutely urgent. Luckily for him, there was a leather couch just off his in-office kitchen upon which he could brood.

What had he been _thinking_? How could he have _kissed _her? After everything the other hosts had said, he realized that what he had done could have easily been mistaken for something else. Had he lost all of his sensibility? What if someone had seen — say, one of his chauffeurs, or perhaps a maid? That would have sent his good name spiraling out of control. He should have held it in; he had suppressed those forbidden feelings for so long that he was sure they had disappeared forever. What wrong had he committed against God that made him the target of such severe punishment? Why were those chained feelings haunting him all these years later?

But when the memory at the beach had resurfaced… he recalled that he bitterly regretted not rescuing Haruhi from the treacherous turbulence of the sea himself. He had been about to rush to her aid when Tamaki beat him to it, as he had almost every other time. He had looked on, fuming quietly, as the king readily jumped off the cliff to save her life. He had watched, inwardly cursing himself for his cowardice and lack of action, as the king emerged from the waters holding Haruhi's limp body. He had called for help with his mobile, keeping his hands and voice from trembling, and even remembered to order flowers to pacify the horror-stricken ladies. He had talked to them in a calm manner as usual, hardly managing to prevent himself from shaking, as he assured them that the situation was under control. It was his role to play the "cool" character, the level-headed one in the group. He could not deviate from the path lest he lost favor in his father's eyes. He had to keep acting.

As a student, he had excelled in his academics, and that he had been unanimously considered the best of his generation was incontrovertible. As a man, however, he remained unattached.

And no matter how hard he tried, one very unusual girl saw through all of his pretenses and knocked them down.

Then Kyoya heard some actual knocking.

"I _told _her not to disturb me!" Kyoya snarled under his breath. He pushed himself off the couch and stomped to the door. When it slid open, he was about to curse everyone in sight — until his burning gaze was met by the solemn one of Morinozuka Takashi. He was holding a shinai, a kendo weapon, and was wearing his kendo armor; he must have come in directly from training at the dojo.

"May I come in?"

Kyoya became disoriented. Was he seeing things? If he was, then Mori-senpai looked fantastically solid. "What are y — ahem — But of course, senpai. Right this way."

He stepped back and watched his senpai carry himself over the threshold and across the office. He supported his hip against Kyoya's desk and used his shinai as a staff to lean on.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?" Kyoya said, wiping the expressions of astonishment and annoyance off his face.

"Tamaki sent me here," Mori-senpai said baldly.

_When I get my hands on that baboon, I will rip him _limb from limb_._

Kyoya swallowed his fury. "I apologize for his lack of tact. I realize you must have been in the middle of something very important. What did he ask you to do now?"

Mori-senpai was silent for a moment. Probably he was thinking his words through with careful deliberation. "He asked me… to explain yourself to you." He seemed pretty satisfied with what he had come up with.

"Spare me the limericks, please, senpai, I have enough to be getting on with," Kyoya said, pinching the bridge of his nose and frowning. He was losing his patience, and the last thing he wanted to do was to yell in an upperclassman's face. "Could you please make this quick?" _Before I explode_, he added in his head.

"Well," Mori-senpai began, "you are a very difficult person, Kyoya. You are very dependable, very intelligent, but very evil. Forgive me for using such a foul term to describe you as a person, but I am afraid my vocabulary in such a scenario is limited. You seem to be afraid to acknowledge your feelings towards other people, though for what reasons I cannot be entirely sure. I am not so presumptuous as to say that I can read you, but sometimes you are quite easy to see through. For example, I believe that Tamaki is very important to you, no matter how much he irritates you. I also believe that everyone in the host club is important to you in their own ways because they are a part of your life. The same goes for Haruhi. You may not have felt anything special at first, but your feelings gradually developed. You simply did not recognize them enough. Do you… understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Kyoya didn't think he had ever heard Mori-senpai say so many things all at once. Just that was enough to shock him into silence, but he went over that for a minute.

Fujioka Haruhi.

At first he thought of her as nothing more than another form of entertainment, one he could more easily manipulate because of her debt, which he could threaten to "increase" whenever she showed signs reluctance in joining the club's eccentric activities. She was someone to make fun of and play with when life became unbearably tedious and repetitive. She had altered his "schedule" and turned it into something unpredictable. She had become his unprecedented reality.

It had taken him five years to realize something so straightforward, and it was about time he acted on his impulse.

Without another word, Kyoya sprinted out of his office, leaving Mori-senpai still leaning, rather awkwardly now that he had completed his task, against his desk. His mind was set on the small apartment in which he had once eaten so casually with her. The drive was agonizing; every second he spent delaying the moment felt like a heavy blow to Kyoya's newly awakened consciousness. His exterior did not belie his inner emotions, and to all who saw him he appeared the very epitome of calmness and cold severity. It was a mask he had worn for so long that he had forgotten how to take it off.

He took the stairs four steps at a time; the elevator would only frustrate him, and he was impatient enough as it was.

He rapped on Haruhi's door smartly with his knuckles, panting heavily, not stopping until she wrenched it open.

"Senpai?" she said thickly, her cheeks puffed up. She was sporting braids that morning, and she was holding a bowl full of marshmallows with her right hand. The butterfly glinted on her ring finger. She swallowed the sweets that were in her mouth. "How much do you want now? Did I accidentally scratch one of your antique forks or something?"

Kyoya took a deep breath. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but he also wanted this to be quick and easy.

"Haruhi, if you don't agree to marry me right now, I will reveal every single discriminating fact I managed to uncover about you, right from the day you were born until this very minute. You have seven seconds to give me your answer."

Needless to say, "Fujioka Haruhi" ceased to exist after those seven seconds.

* * *

><p>He didn't buy her a wedding ring (and even if he'd wanted to she never would have accepted it); the one he had bought her the other day was perfect for the occasion. The ceremony was tediously long: Tamaki kept crying, though for what reasons no one could say; the twins kept trying to postpone the exchange of vows, yelling loudly that they were missing buttons in their coats or that the chandeliers hadn't been polished well enough; Honey-senpai kept going around offering the guests cakes; and Mori-senpai had apologetically confessed towards the end of the whole affair that he, like everyone else in the host club but Honey-senpai, had once been infatuated with Kyoya's bride, for which he said he was very sorry. The three members of the Zuka Club arrived uninvited, and Benibara wept for Haruhi's supposed "misfortune". Kasanoda (who came at Haruhi's kind but inadvertently hurtful invitation) was quite emotional, but he did not object to their marital union — indeed, he even went so far as to give Haruhi a congratulatory hug along with a pot of home-grown garden strawberries. There was a great deal of sobbing and teary-eyed laughing on Ranka-san's part, as well, though Kyoya was positive that he had long since earned his approval. The very moment the festivities ended, Haruhi's belongings were promptly transported by a cooperative team of Ootori servants from her apartment to the manor. The moving took no less than twenty-four minutes in total.<p>

Kyoya's bedroom suddenly held more clothes and personal items that did not belong specifically to him. The pantry was suddenly stocked with food Kyoya ordinarily did not eat. The library suddenly had an additional thirty-two law books sitting in the shelves. The sitting room suddenly had a new, indescribably beautiful painting hanging on the wall.

And Kyoya's heart was suddenly and continually filled with the face of someone he truly cherished.

During their lifelong marriage, Kyoya never said that he loved her. He held her hand, brushed her hair, held her when the thunder came, let her lean against him on the couch and read over his shoulder, took leisurely walks with her in the orchards, listened when she told stories, laughed at her jokes, helped her with her cases, and once even took her on holiday in Germany with him. Those simple acts of love were all he needed to get his feelings across to her. What was the use of words if he couldn't convey his thoughts the way men are typically expected to? Besides those few acts of less-than-mushy romance, he remained much the same; he was still obsessed with their expenses, he immersed himself in work (though more infrequently now) and, most of all, he enjoyed teasing her about money. He never kissed her, either. He embraced her at least once a day, but he never kissed her, not even during their wedding.

That was because he remembered that time in the car when she was sleeping, the time he had told himself this one thing in his effort to maintain his self-control: _Just this once._

He didn't have to change _that _way for Ootori Haruhi to know just how much she meant to him.

* * *

><p>And with that, the <em>Just This Once<em> KyoHaru fanfic by Mhai-kun has finally come to a close, everybody. Were your surprised? XD  
>Sorry it wasn't as long as you probably expected. In fact I wasn't even quite sure how I should have arranged the chapter breaks. At first I was thinking about leaving the whole proposal-then-wedding thing for chapter 7, but that would have made chapter 6 too short. So I squashed it all into one BIG chapter! Yay for my idiocy~! Well, I hoped you guys really enjoyed this fanfic, because I had a lot of fun writing it. Thanks to all of those people who read it to the very end, and sorry if I updated too quickly. I realize that a bit of suspense would have done you all some good. XD<br>Anyway, reviews will still be appreciated, and so will PM's! Again, thank you very much for your support~ See ya soon~!

P.S. I am about to put up a Honey and Clover fanfic for those who are interested~! Watch out for it, 'kay? ;3


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